


heresy

by Anonymous



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Catholic Guilt, Exhibitionism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rimming, general religious fuckery, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: patrick hasn't been in a church in years. he never thought his return would be quite like this.





	heresy

**Author's Note:**

> this is sort of a delicate topic, i think. as a former catholic myself, i really wanted to write something sort of artsy about brian's whole "eating ass in church" tweet from pax and pat's past tweets about religious guilt. 
> 
> i'm so concerned about not doing this justice !!! i hope its alright ??

brian david gilbert is the devil.

patrick knows this from the way brian's eyes flash, dark and devious as he grabs pat's sweaty hand in his own. the street is quiet behind them, stilled by the early weekend hours, and pat doesn't know where in boston they are, but he'd recognize a building like that anywhere. sundays spent in uncomfortable suits, sitting too-straight in wood pews and never knowing the words to the psalms, his father stoic and stern beside him, his mother and sister in their nicest dresses. 

the doors are always unlocked. 

brian pushes them open with the confidence of someone who has never needed to fear god, never raised to believe that he'd go to hell for simply being born. brian's coy little smirk is too much, out of place, and pat hesitates for a moment on the steps. this isn't his parish, isn't his church, but aren't they all the same under the all-seeing eye of god? he touches the carvings on the door, weathered from decades of hands doing the same as he is now. it's not as comforting as he'd hope, and brian tilts his head, eyes wide, and offers his hand out to pat again.

"it's okay."

patrick's not sure how true that is as he grips brian's hand, small and soft in his own, lets himself get hauled into the cavernous hall of the church. the morning sun shines through the stained glass, leaving soft, colorful shadows across the empty pews. the door shuts quietly behind them, and brian's nosing at his jaw, breath hot against his neck. pat wraps an arm around brian's waist, keeps him close as if he were a child about to run off, and lets himself process the rest of the church.

he used to be an altar boy.

it was considered an honor, but pat never felt particularly honorable. after his first communion, his parents pushed for him to serve, and patrick did, because he felt like he had to. he did a lot of things that way, back then. he went to confession because he had to, got confirmed because he had to, dated girls because _he had to_. it's what was expected. but the polyester robes itched every time he wore them, and all eyes felt like they were on him during liturgy. 

brian's pulling him then, all fluttering lashes and soft murmurs and "please"s, right into the confession booth.

pat can remember his last confession, sat shaking in the booth. he was freshly eighteen, and somewhere deep down, he felt like all of this catholic stuff was bullshit. still, a priest was better than telling his parents, as he breathed "i think i'm gay" to the screen between them, and was met with silence. he bowed his head and waited, waited to be told what he already knew, and tried to keep his crying quiet.

brian's kissing him eagerly, chests pressed close, and pat allows his hands to wander, sliding down to brian's ass and squeezing just to hear brian gasp. brian throws his head back, whining high in his throat, and pat can barely function. brian, who's a man, who he's not married to, sitting on his lap in a confession booth, grinding down hard against pat's crotch.

"this is a sin."

"you were going to hell anyway."

pat lurches at that, gripping brian tight enough to bruise. brian's eyes are fire, and pat catches a flash of a grin as brian leans into his neck. pat closes his eyes and tries to forget, forget an adolescence spent crying, wondering what's wrong with him for wanting this with another boy, asking god to forgive him. 

he was thirteen when he figured it out.

junior high was, generally, a bad time for patrick. he never found himself particularly attractive, but it definitely was worse as he entered puberty. he had a difficult time making friends, a difficult time relating to the beginnings of testosterone-fueled boys, who wanted to roughhouse and yell and fight. that being said, pat hated to admit that he _liked_ to watch them, in the same way they liked to watch the girls. he spent sundays at mass silently praying god wouldn't let him like boys, praying his parents would never find out. 

he dated girls until he moved to nyc. he was single until he met brian.

brian didn't care about god or what god thought of him. he didn't care if he was made fun of for his long hair, or his painted nails. he smiled wide and laughed loud and sang when he wanted to, was openly affectionate with his friends of any gender. pat admired him from afar, and then from up close when they started gill and gilbert. brian kissed him after mario kart, patrick kissed back, and since then they'd been more or less dating.

sleeping with brian for the first time was difficult emotionally. brian was loud and giggly and experienced, encouraged pat to do what he wanted, and pat had already sinned by having premarital sex with girls, but it felt _different_ with brian under him. but brian, tight and slick and noisy, arching his back and saying pat's name like it was something holy, eased his mind slightly.

pat feels dizzy as brian slides off his lap, landing hard on his knees on the floor. his fingers make quick work of pat's jeans, swollen lip caught between his teeth as he does. his nails reflect in the small amount of light getting in, his hand wrapping around pat's cock and jerking experimentally. pat sighs, rests his hand in brian's hair, and brian swats him away fast.

"turn around, sir. i wanna do something new."

brian's voice is low, insistent but not demanding, and pat adjusts himself accordingly. he's kneeling on the bench, cheek pressed against the wood siding of the confessional. he can't see brian even of he wanted to, but brian's making quiet, muffled noises around the fingers in his mouth before he presses one against pat's entrance. pat exhales shakily, letting his eyes slip close while brian works his finger in and out. 

"are - are you going to fuck me? we shouldn't do this here."

"hush, don't be so loud. i'm not gonna fuck you." 

"what are you gonna-? "

pat cuts himself off with a gasp. brian's tongue is unexpected, taking the place of his finger. pat's hands struggle to find something, anything to grip onto, his blunt nails scraping against the wood. he's breathing hard, pushing back against brian's mouth. he can't get much more out than brian's name and soft curse words, and taking god's name in vain frequently. 

he didn't tell his parents he was gay until he was with brian for a few months. 

they received it the best they could, and pat was pleasantly surprised, aside from his mother's disappointment about "never having grandchildren from him". they wanted to meet brian. pat never passed that information onto brian. pat knew he'd be excited, can picture the way his round eyes would light up, the lilt in his voice when he'd ask "please?" and pat could never say no. pat also knew how his parents would feel about brian - they'd be nice enough to brian's face, but immediately criticize him when he was out of earshot. pat's not sure if he could handle it.

patrick can't remember when he started to cry. it feels like last time, the guilt, the humiliation. he stays quiet like last time, blinks his tears away. it's like last time, except completely different.

he's not a teenager anymore. there's no old priest behind the screen, telling him to repent. there's still years of residual shame; there always will be, for him and every ex-catholic. but brian doesn't know shame, doesn't share those feelings of embarrassment, longing for them to just disappear. in a way, it makes patrick feel stronger, less afraid when brian's beside him, when brian kisses him long and proud.

patrick cums with a sob onto his own lap, untouched. brian makes a soft, delighted noise when he pulls away, followed by high, wild giggles. 

"oh, patrick gill. you are _incredible_." brian praises, awestruck.

pat wipes his tears away before brian can see them. "i love you."

brian david gilbert is the devil. but he's also pat's angel, helping him get better every day.


End file.
